


cut scenes

by prismatical



Series: detective stories [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Arguing, Comic Book Science, Deleted Scenes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frank Discussion Of Mental Health, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, like thinly disguised via metaphor but it's there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismatical/pseuds/prismatical
Summary: some deleted and revised moments from those other things I wrote, but can be read as one-shots and drabbles
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: detective stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784842
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here’s a small collection of cut scenes, moments, etc, of the other two works in this series (bad signal, fun and games) that were either written out or rewritten to the point beyond recognition. if you haven’t read those…some of them probably won’t make sense, and also spoilers, I guess? but they aren't doing any good sitting on my computer, and if any of them provide someone with any degree of a positive emotion then there's no reason not to post them lmao. 
> 
> I'll post these sporadically, but will try to keep them in order written. I can at least mark which story they're from, and provide bare minimum background info. like this: 
> 
> this is actually the og scene from bad signal, long before it had a plot. I wrote it, then thought _crap, I need a story to go with this._ one thing led to another, and eventually the story changed so much I had to cut it out, but you can pretty much blame this scene for what bad signal turned into. 
> 
> cw's are the same as the stories from which they came, so take care of yourself. 
> 
> anyway. please enjoy!

Jason finds him on the roof of the courthouse, one foot dangling out of sight. The night is cool, but Jason’s in no mood to enjoy it. He approaches slowly, activating the tracking signal and praying it gets through. The light from the courthouse steps is silhouetting Dick, casting odd shadows across the roof.

“Hey there, Goldie. Whatcha doing up here?”

There’s no response. Jason steps closer, wary.

“‘Wing? Can you hear me?”

Dick half turns to look at him, domino missing and eyes blank. Jason shivers, halting a few steps away.

“I was supposed to kill Tim.” Dick says, and his voice is distant, the words uninflected.

“Yeah?” Jason...doesn’t really know how to respond to that. Dick doesn’t seem exactly present, expression a bit too spaced out for his taste. He goes for reassuring, just in case Dick’s actually half-way lucid. “Well, Tim’s not dead. So there’s that.”

Dick blinks, expression unchanged. Then he turns back to face the skyline.

“I’m tired of it.”

“Tired of what?” Jason steps closer.

Dick gestures vaguely with his hand.

“This. My brain. Having no control.” He blinks, pausing, then continues tonelessly. “I was supposed to kill Tim. I tried to kill Tim.”

Jason eases down beside him, positioning himself to be able to flip Dick backwards onto the roof if he makes any sudden movements.

“Well, that’s not what Tim said. He told me you freaked out and split after that transmission, so whatever tech’s in your head didn’t even work right. If you really tried to kill him, you did a pretty shitty job. Worse than me, even.”

Dick doesn’t respond. Jason takes a deep breath, wondering how far out the other bats are with a fix for whatever’s going on.

“And you have control now, don’t you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Dick shakes his head, expression faraway. “I’m supposed to kill Tim. It wants me to kill Tim.”

“Is that so,” Jason drawls, not missing the sudden inclusion of a third party. “Not me?”

“You’re not important.”

“Ouch.”

It’s definitely a sign that Dick’s not all there, because he would be falling over himself to correct the phrasing as if it would have actually hurt Jason’s feelings.

“So if you’re supposed to be killing Tim, what are we doing up here?” Jason asks.

He watches Dick's face not change, trying not to overthink whatever 'it' is, whatever new crappy deal they've been handed.

“Trying to think.” He doesn’t explain further, and Jason rolls his eyes.

“About?” he prompts.

There’s a long pause, and Dick’s eyes somehow get glassier, more distant.

“Now it wants me to kill you, too.”

Jason tenses slightly, but Dick hasn’t so much twitched. If he’s about to make a move, Jason can’t tell.

“Well...are you?”

“I...don’t think I want to.” For the first time, Dick falters. Jason takes that as encouragement.

“What _do_ you want?”

“I want...to think. I’m...tired.”

They sit in silence, Jason trying to think of things to say that could possibly make this okay. He’s starting to guess that the tracking signal isn’t working. It’ll be up to Jason.

He clears his throat.

“Why are you tired, Dickiebird?”

“I...Fear gas. Joker venom. Brother Blood. Hypnos. Ric. The Court of Owls. This.” He turns to stare at Jason, eyes still hollow and incurious as he lists. “I don’t...trust myself. My mind.”

Something twists in Jason’s chest at the words, something cold and distraught and distracting. He sighs.

“I might be able to relate,” he offers honestly. “The Pit didn’t do me any favors in that department.”

“I just.” There’s a flicker of genuine emotion on his face. Jason holds his breath. “I’m tired of it. I’m so tired.”

After a moment, Dick looks over at him, perfectly impassive.

“You might need to kill me.”

Jason tenses again, fighting back a dozen different instinctual responses that would likely not go over well, considering they’re perched on the edge of a building. Instead, he shuffles so his gun is out of Dick’s line of vision. Better safe than sorry.

“You, uh, seem pretty calm about it.”

Dick blinks.

“It wants me to be calm.”

Jason nearly recoils at that, the idea that Dick’s being forced to feel one way or another. Whoever is behind this is going to have a _very_ bad day, _very_ soon. Jason plans to make sure of that. But that's a promise for later.

He takes a deep breath, skin still crawling. 

“Do you want to be calm?”

“I don’t...know.” Again, that hesitation. It’s encouraging as anything can be right now, if he’s still half-under the influence.

“What if I asked you to freak out? Scream at the sky, punch me in the face?”

“I don’t…” He trails off, staring straight ahead. After a moment it’s clear he’s not going to finish his sentence. Jason clears his throat.

“Look, Lazarus stuff...it’s not the same, and I’m not gonna pretend we’re fighting the same battle here. I’m guessing we’re on different spectrums of crappy mental issues. But uh, I just want you to know…”

As much as he rags on Bruce for facing up to his kids’ baggage, Jason himself has never been consistently up to the challenge. But here, on this springtime rooftop, Dick is not-quite-there enough that running seems like the scarier option.

“I still get caught up in it, sometimes. It’s like…” He squints at his hands, pressing on a callous. “Thinking in circles. But the circles are on fire, and then _everything’s_ on fire, so I think, what’s the point of trying to put any of it out? ‘Fire is bright, and fire is clean,’ and all that. Why should I try to stop it?”

He blows out a breath, not looking at Dick. “And then it just...gets out of hand. But you know what?”

He lifts his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, ventures it to Dick’s shoulder. He’s not exactly touchy-feely, but Dick is, and Dick is the one currently in some degree of comfort-warranting peril.

Dick doesn’t relax as the hand lands on his shoulder, but he doesn’t shrug it away either. Jason forges ahead.

“There are good days and bad days. Today’s a pre-tty lousy day for you by the look of it. But hey, if I’m lucky, on _my_ bad days one of you dipshits breaks into my apartment with an obnoxious attitude and a fire extinguisher. So maybe...” Jason’s mouth is dry, as he struggles for the words.

”..if you don’t trust yourself, we can trust you for you. And if you’re tired, and you need, uh, a place to crash, my couch is always -”

Jason’s pretty sure he’s rambling at this point to someone he’s not even sure is listening, and the metaphors are wearing pretty thin. But Dick hasn’t tried to kill him or jump off the edge of the building, so he must be doing something right, right?

“Jason?”

Jason leans forward, trying to read Dick’s expression in the low light. It’s significantly less robotic than before.

“Yeah, Dick?”

“I think…” Dick presses his eyes closed, voice faltering. “There’s...something in my head. Something not me.”

“I know there is,” Jason says softly. “Come back to the manor with me. We can help.”

“I can’t feel anything,” Dick continues, tone becoming increasingly distressed. “I can’t think, Jason, I-. It wants me to kill Tim. And you, and - I don’t think...I don’t want to.”

He looks over at Jason, aghast, and it's never been such a relief to see such a distraught expression.

“I think there’s something really wrong with me.”

Jason’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with all of them. A lot of it can be traced back to one man’s decision to outfit a child’s costume with kevlar. But even Jason can recognize when to _not_ drag out old skeletons.

“Yeah, it's like I said. You’re having a bad day.” He stands, offering his hand down to his brother. “So how about we go home and figure it out?”  
Dick eyes it, a spark of wariness in his gaze and for a moment Jason thinks he’s legitimately going to tell him just to fuck off.

“C’mon, ‘wing,” Jason says easily. “I’m sure everybody’s waiting.”

“I...okay. Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cut scene from bad signal, chapter 9 - quick context, there was an incident with a bridge and gun that led to Jason zapping Dick unconscious. if you don't know what happens, eh don't worry about it, he's like mostly fine. cut to keep up the energy of the chapter.

“What the hell was that?”

Tim shakes his head, crouching. He knows Jason isn’t - Jason wouldn’t lie, but all the same he reaches out, pressing two fingers to Dick’s neck.

“Pulse is elevated, but slowing back to normal,” he manages to say, grasping at the Nightwing collar. It’s well-made fabric, tough and grounding. “Does - we should check for other injuries. He might.”

Tim’s voice fails him, and to his horror there’s a faint sting of tears coming to his eyes. Now is _not_ the time, pull it _together_ -

“Hey, Timmy, calm down,” Jason’s voice is very sudden in his ears, and he manages to tear his eyes away from Dick’s very still face to look up into Jason’s. “He’s just unconscious from the shock, nothing else. I promise. Scout's honor.”

Tim’s brain won’t stop playing those last moments on a repeat, if he could have just gotten the gun, if he hadn’t hesitated -

“He was going to-”

“I know,” Jason growls, expression clouding. “I know, okay, but he didn’t, and he’s fine. But we can’t fucking do anything else until we get him back to the cave. So please please _please_ , save the panic attack for later, and help me with him?”

Tim’s body moves, and eventually they’re standing with Dick strung only slightly awkwardly between them. He’s fairly certain Jason’s taking most of the weight, but can’t find it in him to call him out.

“Bruce better be on his fucking way,” Jason mutters, as they head for the cover of the bridge. “This is - gah, this is so _fucked_!”

The last word - a shout - echoes mutely over the bank and its clumped, filthy grass, and Tim can only watch numbly from his side of Dick's shoulder as Jason squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

  
Dick, a dead weight between them, says nothing.

_“M’sorry. L -”_

Tim’s train of thought is interrupted by a low rumble and a pair of headlights cutting through the dark towards them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the full transcript of the Jason & Bruce post-bridge car ride, written out first and then cut around to fit into the scene in chapter 15 of bad signal - there's not actually that much new here, just a few missing holes in the argument that I decided were less relevant, but here for reading if you want some angsty hashing out. if you haven't read bad signal, there are some references to attempted suicide in this short, so heads up and take care. 
> 
> a special thanks to citrustrees and discoreos specifically for their encouragement on the whole cut scenes idea :) that's pretty much it for bad signal, some fun & games moments up next.

_[tape begins]_

_“I left my bike on the bridge, I should-”_

_“Robin got it. Report.”_

_“You could just ask if he’s okay, like a normal fucking—you know what, nevermind, it doesn’t even matter, does it? You can just get Lex to pop him a pill and hope we won’t notice, right? He’ll be right as rain, no complications later.”_

_“Red Hood—”_

_“Thought we wouldn’t find out? Is it_ convenient _for you, pitting us against each other? Were you gonna let us blame him forever? Or wait until he figured out you can’t keep that kind of shit inside of you or else—”_

_“Red Hood, I need to know what happened, this could be—”_

_“He drove off the fucking bridge!”_

_“He drove— explain.”_

_“No, you explain why you let us believe that Dick didn’t actually—ah shit.”_

_“What is it?”_

_"He's bleeding again."_

_“Head trauma?”_

_“I’m not—shit. Bruce, fuck, it’s— it’s from his fucking ear.”_

_“Hrn.”_

_"..."_

_“Red - Jason. Please. Tell me what happened.”_

_“He—fuck, B, he drove straight off the Risadez. I went after him, he—I thought maybe he was having some kind of episode, with his memory, or something. Tim thought the same, maybe Spyral, or—who knows. I got him to the beach.”_

_“Was he conscious?”_

_“Conscious enough to grab my gun and aim.”_

_“Did— are you hurt?”_

_“How kind of you to ask.”_

_“Jason, please.”_

_“I’m fine. I—for a second, I wasn’t— I swear he was going to. I don’t know who he thought I was, or where he thought he was. Tim showed up, I think that threw him off.”_

_“Is Tim hurt?”_

_“You really choose the darndest times to give a shit.”_

_“Jason.”_

_“Tim’s fine. Dick freaked, we fought, he tried to blow his own head off."_

_“He_ what _.”_

 _“You heard me. Maybe he finally figured out how fucking thankless this all is, and finally cracked. Or maybe he just was sick of dealing with all of the responsibilities_ you _shovel onto him. Or maybe—"_

 _“Jason, that is_ enough _.”_

 _“What? I’m fucking sick and tired of pretending to let you off the hook, Bruce. We_ know _Spyral was your fucking idea, we_ know _you left him hanging for months, and we_ know _you covered up him dying. You know how pissed we were? You know we thought, oh, looks like Dickie really is Batman’s copycat, guess we can forget about him ever being on our side instead of yours."_

_“He agreed to it.”_

_“He — what are you, fucking— he had_ just _died! You shouldn’t have been asking! I don't know, if you happen to recall that time when_ I _died? But I wasn’t exactly in the position to be making executive decisions right after, you complete and utter_ asshole _.”_

_“Jason, I understand you’re upset, I —we need to focus on what’s at hand.”_

_“What’s at hand? Oh, you think I’m just bringing all this shit up as a reason to pick a fight? Newsflash, some people can’t channel all of their emotions into being a shitty father.”_

_“...”_

_“You have no clue what I mean, do you?”_

_“...we can address this when we get back to the cave.”_

_“Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable, you know that? Oh, gee, what could possibly be the connection between you dragging him out of one nightmare and into another, and him throwing himself off a bridge?"_

_“Jason.”_

_“I don’t know what kind of emotions-for-dummies book you’ve been reading, but last I checked, normal humans_ occasionally _respond poorly to trauma.”_

_“Amazingly, I do understand that, Jason. But if you’re implying Dick couldn’t have come to me about—”_

_“That’s exactly what I’m implying, gold star for you.”_

_“—then you’re wrong. He’s never asked.”_

_“He wouldn’t, because full offense, you’re the_ definition _of unapproachable. So my question is, how the fuck do you expect anyone go through that and keep quiet about it, without fucking losing it! You set him up for this, with your secret keeping, and your gag orders, and your fucking —you_ knew _he wouldn’t be able to tell us the truth! So guess what, Bruce? If he fucking dies because of he’s fucking_ self-destructing _on your watch, you’re the one I’m blaming. Not Lex Luthor, not the Crime Syndicate, not fucking Spyral—you. If I hadn’t had that fucking bioelectric pulse code—”_

_“Jason, I —t”_

_“I don’t want to hear it.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Save it for someone who still believes it.”_

_[end tape]_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have searched for so long and in vain for another cut scene preceding this one because I really wanted to keep them in order but it seems to have vanished from my files :( 
> 
> anyway. this is a scene from the outline of fun & games that I actually changed completely, where when the venom wasn't replicating when it was dormant, they were gonna purposefully argue with Dick to induce a stress response. angsty, right? 
> 
> but after I got like halfway through I realized that was transparently unreasonable even for me because they could have just made him watch a horror movie with a bunch of jump scares, or even straight up dose him with cortisol or adrenaline. so it was cut and changed! but here is what was written. you might notice a bit of repetition from the story, but whatev. enjoy :)

“This is dumb," Jason says, uncrossing his arms. "It won’t work, and you’ll just be pissed at me, which means everyone else will get pissed at me, which will probably get me chased out next time I try to actually show up.”

“What happened to not caring?” Dick shoots back, a little too sharp. He closes his eyes, expression settling. "Sorry. Uncalled for. But we need to do this, you know?" 

“Jeez, alright.” Jason rolls his eyes, scratches his head. “Uh.”

Being fake-mean is way harder than he’d expected, not to mention just how wrong it feels to think of cutting things to say to a guy who looks so ill beneath the harsh light. The rib wraps are holding, and Jason hasn’t heard a trace of a chuckle since he’d woken up. Not to mention Dick’s eyes are sharp and alert, no indication of any kind he’d been so far out of it to call Jason _Robin_ just a bit ago.

What a fucking night.

“Dick, c’mon, this is dumb,” he says again, trying to shake the itch from his skin. “We can wait until they have an antidote to try triggers. We’ve got a ton of other leads -”

“No antidote without active venom, Jay.” Dick flashes him a hard smile. “Think of it as verbal sparring.”

Jason snorts.

“I was thinking of it more as a roast.”

“Then roast away, I can take it.” He spins on the stool, arms out wide with that same, gritted, half-reassuring smile. “How about we start with my personal flaws?”

“Jesus, you really are some kind of masochist,” Jason grumbles. “Fine. ‘Dick Grayson once put hot sauce on cereal and called it a garnish.’ I call that something way deeper than a personal flaw.”

“First of all, don’t knock it til you try it, second, come on, Jay. If we don’t get an antidote for this, if he ever gets the chance to use it on a wider scale, there’d be chaos. Be serious.”

“I’m being serious. I watched you mix it with the _milk_. It turned _orange_.”

“That’s not -”

“It was probably the most egregious crime I’ve ever seen.”

“Jay.”

“I’ve seen _maimings_ , Dick.”

_“Jason.”_

Dick is looking at him with more than a little pity, like he knows what Jason’s doing. So sue him, Jason knows he’s an asshole, but he’s not cruel. This whole...experiment, thing, really just feels like kicking someone while they’re down.

“Fine, fine. But you gotta give me something to work with, Goldie. It’s like when somebody asks you to name your favorite song, and you forget every song you’ve ever heard.”

Dick nods, looking pensive.

“How about...I tell you why I was so pissed earlier. And hopefully you’ll tell me to fuck off, and I’ll get mad, and we’ll see if this whole thing works. ”

“Ohh, you sneaky bastard!” Jason barks a laugh, plopping into the chair across from Dick. “This is just a cover to play family therapy, isn’t it?”

“Tim might have mentioned something.” Dick smiles thinly. “‘Healthy communication?’”

“That little shit.”

“I’m so proud, li’l wing.” Dick sniffs fakely, placing a hand on his heart and looking skyward. “All grown up and wanting to foster functional interpersonal relationships.”

“Yeah, like it worked so well,” Jason mutters. There’s a pause, and he clears his throat, standing again.

“Okay, show on the road, before Steph gets back and everyone starts to accuse me of cruel and unusual roasting.”

Dick’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment Jason doesn’t compute. Why…?

Then it hits him, just as Tim enters the doorway. 

"Hey are you guys still-" he freezes, tablet lowering. 

_Fuck._

“Jason,” Dick says, closing his eyes and heaving an enormous sigh. “Jason. Jaybird. Little brother. Li’l wing. _Tell me_ Steph didn’t go to Arkham.”

Jason’s eyes dart from Dick’s face, to Tim's and back.

“Oh, no, no,” he says. It’s dumb and irrational, but it feels like he’s a kid again, getting caught out in a lie. “She just, uh, followed one of Babs’ leads, out by the textile district.”

Dick just looks at him.

“The Joker was never near the textile district.”

“Oh, was he not?” Even _Jason_ doesn’t believe Jason. “Wild night, I must have misheard -”

Duke would be laughing at him, he can feel it.

“Jason." Dick sighs again, expression tight. "At least tell me she’s not _still there_.”

Jason rubs the bridge of his nose. The best laid plans. All of that effort to convince everyone, and keep it from Bruce, and now -

“Look, Dick, what did you expect us to do?” he says, dropping all pretense. “We weren’t going to _not_ follow up on a lead -”

“I didn’t _expect_ you to go behind my back and put yourselves all at risk!” Dick says, throwing his hands up. His expression a mix of exasperation and - great. Patented Dick Grayson Disappointment. And Jason can't even feel righteously mad about it, since honestly, he'd be just as pissed if it were him. “Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me? Why on earth would you keep this from me?” 

“Uh.” Duke’s voice echoes, and they both look up to see him standing on the platform above them. “I can come back?”

* * *

(a short coda)

Duke nods, and Jason can feel him looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“He found out?” 

Jason grits his teeth, focusing on disassembling the gun.

“Yep.”

"And he was mad?" 

"Yep." 

Duke stands, patting Jason on the shoulder as he heads for the door. 

“You owe me forty bucks.” 

Jason sets down the gun. 

“We never made a bet?” 

“I’ll take cash,” Duke calls. "Double if Bruce finds out too!" 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from chapter 4 of the quiet ones, cut 'cause I realized I liked ending the chapter with the atmosphere of the cave. so unfortunately you don't get an in-plot explanation of where the dogs are, but if you were concerned, they are just frolicking around the manor grounds.

It’s hours later when Bruce is satisfied with the plan of action and begins the long trudge to his bed. He notes the emptiness of the house, pausing in the kitchen. He surreptitiously takes a small packet of Batman M&Ms from the ornate bowl on the table that looks like something Alfred would have pulled out for a funeral, before glancing around the silent room. 

He can’t remember the last time it was this quiet in the Manor. 

The peace is broken by a raucous flurry of barking, and Bruce heads for the backdoor with a sigh. 

“Ace! Titus!” 

At the jingle of their collars, he checks his phone, and sure enough, there’s a photo message received several hours ago of a row of dim theater seats. Stephanie and Cassandra’s faces are obscured, far down the line, but Tim and Duke are smiling at the camera, while Damian’s eyes are downcast towards his phone. 

Jason’s absence is prominent, but from Bruce’s subtle interrogations it’s more from wariness than hostility. After the….incident with Joker, Bruce has yet to see Jason out of night work, his visits to the Manor few and far between and always over just as Bruce becomes aware he’s even there. Still, he knows the rest of them have been keeping in touch, and after much harried, mediated messaging with Bruce, he’d agreed to partner with Duke on the night’s patrol rather than go it alone. 

It’s the best Bruce can ask for. 

He looks up as Ace and Titus appear, shaking dirt and leaves and god-knows what else from their fur. Bruce steps back, opening the door wider. 

Near simultaneously, they halt. Titus dips his enormous head, whining. 

“C’mon, gentlemen,” Bruce sighs. “Inside.” 

Ace barks, baring his teeth a little. Titus whines again, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Ace,” Bruce reprimands, furrowing his brow. “Have you not eaten? Come on in, boy.” 

No matter how much he coaxes, the dogs refuse to come any closer. Bruce sighs, making sure their outside bowls are full and clean. 

Maybe they dislike the silence in the house just as much as he does.


End file.
